


The Long Way Home

by AbsolutelyIris



Series: The Long Way Home [1]
Category: Veronica Mars (Movie 2014), Veronica Mars (TV), Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Genre: Book Spoilers, F/M, Movie Spoilers, POV Female Character, Post-Movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-27
Updated: 2014-04-27
Packaged: 2018-01-20 22:39:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1528280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbsolutelyIris/pseuds/AbsolutelyIris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We should take the long way home."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic could not have been done without the tremendous help of my beta Roz ([afrocurl](http://archiveofourown.org/users/afrocurl/profile)), my wifey and guru D ([Ghostcat](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghostcat/profile)), and my military wife expert of fabulousness Crystal ([crystalkei](http://archiveofourown.org/users/crystalkei/profile)). A big thank you also goes to everyone who encouraged this damn thing as I wrote it.
> 
> And, of course, to the Veronica Mars team who delivered an amazing film and book seven years after the unfortunate end. Thank you.

The reassurances start in the cab as news of Carrie's murder breaks. 

Piz keeps staring at her in _that way_ and talking to her in _that tone_ and it's a tad annoying but reasonable, she thinks. His confidence had grown in their eight years apart but there was still some of the old Piz in there and that was okay. He has nothing to worry about. A quick trip back home, hang with her dad, help Logan, go back to New York. Easy breezy.

He never asks in the year they were together why she would shut down when he tried to talk about certain things, or why she had her phone locked with a password when he tried to use it to call for a cab during a kinda-sorta drunken night out, what she was trying to hide. And yet she wishes he would ask. She wishes he would challenge her more, it's become boring holding the reins all the time. She wants him to snatch them out of her hands but he never does. Even when she gives him room to take control, something as simple as “what should we do about the heater situation?” becomes a considerate, lulling discussion. Veronica doesn't want to waste time, so she tells Piz she's going back to Neptune. Not “what do you think” or “what should I do” but “I am going.” 

As Piz goes off to pay the bill for their dinner, her eyes drift down to her phone, lingers on Logan's name and number there at the top of her recent calls list. It sits heavy and it feels like his name is bolder than the others. As always, his presence looms in her mind even if he's nowhere to be found. It's just concern, surely. Like all the other times, it's concern for him, always a worry.

The conversation on the phone had been awkward and tense, spoken like complete strangers, which she supposed they were after nine years. 

He sounded so composed on the phone but she could hear the faint shake of his voice, that didn't slip by her. The racing of her heart at the sound of his voice didn't slip by her either, in fact, she was surprised by it. And yet, not as surprised as she was when Mac texted her with _guess who I just saw Top Gunning it @ Java?_ all those years ago. 

It doesn't matter, though. None of it matters- she'll be going to Neptune out of the goodness of her heart, to help an old friend. Piz understands, it's not like she's going on vacation. This was all just a big pain in the ass, really.

She's not _that_ nervous.

* * * * *

She makes the first move to hug and that's totally not weird. He spent forty-nine dollars on a plane ticket just so he could meet her at the gate. Also not weird.

The two girls who nearly cooed at the sight of Logan carrying her bag as they walked past...that wasn't so weird. The older men giving Logan respectful nods or straight up saluting him... _that_ was weird. The quiet smiles and nods he gives back are also foreign to her, the control and almost bashfulness of it.

Logan Echolls is notably calmer, his posture perfect. He doesn't fidget like he used to and he stares at her directly when he speaks. He no longer pulls his sleeves over his hands or has a nervous fight-or-flight energy buzzing about him. He walks slower and with more confidence. His voice is softer and dare she say gentler. This is what throws her out of kilter.

He seems so... _adult_. 

She notices him glancing at her every so often and she wonders if he's thinking the same about her. What is he thinking about her? Is he also marveling over how adult and confident she is? Or is it more superficial and he's noticing her hair or new look? She feels stupid for even wondering, none of it matters, she's here for business, not to play catch up.

While she's putting on her seat belt, he speaks with a fond tenderness, “You look good, Veronica.”

She doesn't respond but the smile plays on her lips. A compliment from Logan Echolls always made her smile, and surprisingly, it was no different now. 

* * * * *

He mentions Carrie during the car ride to her father's office, only when they came upon one of her songs playing on the radio. The previous conversation had been kept light and distant. He talked about his path to military work, she about the road toward law, and she suspected they were both avoiding the elephant in the room.

“Y'know what she said, the first time she saw me in my dress whites?” A sad smile slowly graces his features. “ _Logan Echolls, you punk-ass bitch_.”

She grins tightly, shaking her head. “Modern love.”

“Yeah. It was,” his sharp intake of breath is like a cut in the silence. “No one knew how funny she was. She had to get to know you but when she did...” he trails off, shaking his head as he passes a semi and ignores their blaring horn. 

“You miss her.”

“Well, when you have a grand total of two friends, the absence is noticeable,” he sighs when Veronica doesn't respond. “I miss the woman who was my friend. I miss the woman I fell in love with. She wasn't that woman for a long time, though,” he pauses, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “They didn't let me go to the funeral, you know.”

“Logan-”

“If you're going to repeat a Sympathy for Dummies one-liner, don't.”

She sighs, finally turning her head to look at him. He's not looking at her and perhaps the unawareness allows the sorrow to sit on his features and in the sunset, he looks sadder and more tired than she had noticed in the airport. She doesn't know how to respond to any of this and maybe they should have just stuck with the friendly small talk but here they were. It was time to extend the friend branch. “Look, if you need to talk or something, about Carrie or the case or whatever, I'm here-”

He grins at her, a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. “So how about them Dodgers?” 

* * * * *

The text comes about ten minutes after he dropped her off at her dad's office as her father rushes to close up. 

_Hope you enjoyed the outfit. Next time...a cowboy!_

She smiles and wonders why exactly she had avoided him for nine years. This wasn't so bad at all.

* * * * *

He spends a good chunk of the parade of hungry lawyers glancing at her. Questioning looks, annoyed stares, anxious flits, completely lost and blank gazes. Those are the ones that alarm her. And yet, before she could get too concerned, he seems to sense her worry and pops back into the performance- a cold grin or a roll of his eyes at the more horrible and soulless attorneys, politeness and handshakes toward the ones that at least pretended to give a shit.

He offers to buy her a drink and she accepts. She feels a bit shy, and it's silly. But this isn't weird. This is normal. This is what adults do, there's nothing weird here. They are friends. 

This time, she gives him a smile when she catches him glancing at her as he buckles his seatbelt. He winks back and she can't help the faint...rush? 

* * * * *

Logan considers Carrie and Bonnie DeVille to be two separate people. Bonnie DeVille's biggest fan hid in Carrie's closet. Carrie hated Bonnie's second #1 single. Bonnie wore the boots Logan bought Carrie in one of her last music videos. 

It's only odd for about five minutes until she realizes Logan needs to separate the two since Carrie was simply playing a role. She could relate, sometimes she felt like she was playing a role. Veronica Mars: the ambitious attorney. She doesn't tell Logan, though, because it probably wasn't the time. It definitely wasn't the time.

She lets Logan vent in the parking lot of the karaoke bar because he needs it, he really does. 

“So Carrie's been fucked up for weeks, right? I say enough and she goes off with Sean and his fucking lackeys and she's papped on Melrose at three in the morning, coke on her nose. Couple of weeks later, Carrie's calling saying she's been clean for two weeks, she's proud, wants me to come home. I tell her I need some time, but to stay clean, right? Parker comes into town for business and I take her out to dinner- she's a PR rep for HBO now, by the way.”

He's tapping the steering wheel with his fingers now, an anxious drumming. “Parker and I get our photo put up on TMZ, they got me kissing her cheek next to her cab but they got it at an _angle_ so it looks like we're making out, right? _Lt. Echolls and the Mystery Woman_. Carrie calls Dick, screaming and wanting to know where I am. Dick calls me, Carrie's going ballistic. I call her and she's screaming and crying, why am I doing this to her, you prick, you asshole, I'm going to off myself.”

Logan's eyes follow a group of men walking to their car before returning his gaze to the steering wheel. “I'm not really sure if she's being serious or not so I go over. She's yelling at me for embarrassing her, I'm telling her Parker is just my friend, we're friends on fucking Facebook, for fuck's sake. We're arguing and I'm looking at her and it slowly dawns on me...Carrie is _on something_. She's fucking off her head.”

He pauses then, swallowing hard and his hands are clenched in his lap. The cars zoom past them, filling the silence and he doesn't look at Veronica and she realizes just how _worn_ he really is. 

“I fucking lose it, Veronica. She's still yelling at me and I start looking in her kitchen cabinets, sugar bowls, I'm looking for the drugs, you know? She's not seeing what I'm doing and I'm ignoring her because insulting my dad's not exactly the best way to get at me, right? I move past her, running up the stairs and she's after me and grabbing my legs but I'm faster than her and I'm going into her bedroom and by now, I'm pissed off and yanking her drawers out and dumping them. I go to her dresser and she's fucking whaling on me, Veronica. Hitting and scratching me and I finally just push her on the bed to get her the fuck away from me and there's the coke, right in plain sight next to a picture of me and her.”

Veronica inhales sharply and tries to recover, tries to keep her expression blank, like a lawyer would. 

“She told me she was clean for two weeks and it was a lie. Like...I'm standing there, holding this coke and I'm scratched up and my lip's busted up and she's just laying on the bed like...I knew it was over, I knew it wasn't going to change, she wasn't Carrie, I don't know who the fuck that was. And I fucking hated her.”

“Don't tell that to your counsel.”

“I'm not stupid, Veronica. I open the bag, dump the coke on her and walk out. She's up and following me, screaming and cursing me out, trying to hit me again. I leave and Dick sees me and he says...” a wry smile comes on his lips but it's not genuine and it's more of a grimace. “ _Shit, man, you better say you got in a bar fight_.”

“Next week, it's in the _Enquirer_ and _People_ that Carrie and I got into a shouting match at her place. She calls me a few days later, saying bygones and could we go hang at the beach...” he trails off, letting out a shuddering breath and finally looking at Veronica. “Carrie died a long time before she actually did. I just feel like I failed. Like I killed her by not trying harder.”

She doesn't know what to say, what is there to say? She wants to lie to him and say it would be okay but it won't because someone is dead. She wants to hug him but it's not her place. She wants to go back to her father's and crawl into bed and let what he's saying cloak her in its misery. She doesn't know what to say so she reiterates, “D-Don't tell that to your counsel.”

Logan lets out a sharp laugh, shaking his head. “Christ. I get it, Veronica.”

“We should keep driving, it's late,” she reaches for her bag, eager to change the subject. “Tell me more about the e-mails Single White Female sent you.”

* * * * *

She feels electricity through her fingers as she pulls out her taser, her fake IDs, her camera. Each item brings about mixed emotions but more than painful memories, there's almost a euphoria at handling her weapons. It's not sex but power, that feeling. She hadn't felt that in a long time, it was like something in her had just roused, and she didn't feel giddy or even happy but she felt _powerful_. 

It was all things she couldn't explain in words to anyone. Not when she sees the looks her father keeps giving her, the way Wallace glanced at her when she mentioned Logan's case. At least Mac had the decency to stay neutral. 

A quick phone call to Piz telling him it's going to be a couple of more days turns into some more reassurance, a soft tone to quell the sudden urge to snap at him for sounding just slightly irritated. She didn't know what he expected- she came down to work. It was only supposed to be a day but things change when the issue gets more serious. It would be the same when she started taking cases as a bona fide lawyer. She wishes he could just understand. Actually, she wishes they would _all_ understand.

She just wants to help a friend. It's not like she's going to stick around. 

* * * * *

“You should only wear this.”

There's a rush.

He gazes at her fondly as she walks down the steps and he looks almost pleased as he gives her the once-over. It was definitely a once-over. Flirting...was this flirting? Or was this just the Echolls charm? She definitely wasn't getting butterflies, that's for sure.

She can feel the almost business-like walls they had both surely and unconsciously put up between them crumble as she gets closer and his smile is a pleased one and she can't help but smile back. It's a smile she can feel curving into something naughtier and full of insinuation like they used to and she's almost ashamed for a moment. _Almost_. 

God, he looks so good. It's okay to admit that, isn't it? That's not weird. She's in a relationship but she's not _dead_. It's okay to acknowledge another man's desirability. It was just a look, a smile. It means nothing. 

_You should only wear this._

There's definitely a rush.

* * * * *

She's just slightly mortified to find herself arrested. The mortification fades away to a slight pride and surprising amusement when she texts Logan about the recent developments and his response is a simple _well, the bar isn't going to like that, mars_.

Let's see how quippy he is after she tells him about the deal she made with Della. 

Her father's stern look wipes the smile off her face and she quickly lowers her head, hiding her face behind her hair as she quickly texts back a _haha, just wait_. Thankfully, her father hasn't asked whom she was texting, although she figures he's already guessed.

A part of her is disappointed at her father's irritation over her predicament. It was a risk she would have to take if she was investigating, and it's not like she'll be doing this forever. It was just a setback, and no one got hurt. She still has a case to solve. 

* * * * *

Logan chats and dances a bit too easy with Della- actually, Ruby. She watches as he flirts gamely, letting Ruby smile adoringly at him and touch his knee and she wonders if it was this easy when he was talking to her, when they were alone and he was smirking at her in _that way_ that always give her butterflies.

No. This wasn't the time to be insecure because none of this mattered. She was on a case and he was playing a part. Like Carrie played a part. Like she played a part, sometimes. 

There was no jealousy. Not from her end. None at all. 

With a firm swipe of the screen, she ignores the incoming call from Piz. Not while she's busy, she'll text him later. He'll understand.

* * * * *

_We should take the long way home._

Playing a game of chicken can be fun, sometimes. The idea that Logan isn't exactly playing along intrigues her even more. The glances, the silences, it's all just a game. 

There are things she can't control like the way her breath catches when he looks at her. Sometimes even with a glance, her breathing dips. She can't control the way her body just _responds_ to him, even when she tries to will it not to. The sudden thirst for it, she can't explain but she likes the tension. She had missed that tension.

Dipping a toe in the water. 

She gives him her own looks too, wonders if he catches them. It's like an adult game of peekaboo, really. _Can you see the real me before I hide again?_

Playing with fire.

How easy it would be to cheat. She would never, she doesn't think, but it would be so easy. She might even allow it to happen, maybe. Fall right into it. Tilt and fall. To feel alive and like herself, the real her, for just a moment. She wonders if he's thought about it, if he would. No. She would never. Ever.

A challenge of self-control and endurance. She's winning.

She's almost smug now as he glances at her and she holds his stare before looking away. Before, that would have been all she needed before she was sliding across the seat and opening her mouth to the bare skin of his neck. Before, that would have been it before his lips lifted into a naughty smirk as his hand was slipping between her thighs. Neither of them make a move but she can feel the tension, the electricity, there. It sits, waiting. She doesn't move, and neither does he. _She's winning._

It's just a game. It's all harmless. 

* * * * *

She's surprised at the anger that suddenly hits her. Not the anger from seeing Logan falsely accused and the assumptions made about him when she knew better. No, this was anger from the assumptions being made about _her_ , the ideals being pushed on _her_ , as they have been for years. Every time she begins to feel comfortable, someone has to jerk her back. 

The judgment is annoying her. From her father, Piz, Wallace, she's just over it. She can see it on their faces, hear it in their voices. They mean well, she knows this, but she wants to finish this case. It's hard enough as it is trying to get information out of people like Dick without her own side stepping in the way.

Her father keeps giving her looks. The stern, use-your-head look. And then there's the look of disappointment that shames her and she wishes he would stop giving her before she went back to New York out of pure guilt. She has things to do. She doesn't want to disappoint her father but she has things to do.

She ignores the call from Truman-Mann.

Mac actually warned her about Piz being inside at the reunion, like she had been doing something wrong talking to Logan. Like anyone would be able to _stop her_ from talking to Logan or doing anything she wanted to. They all mean well. She just wants to finish the case.

It's about the case, really. Weevil is now wrapped in the corruption of the police department, she was already getting the itch to investigate that as well. She had to clear Weevil, look into what the hell was going on with the Neptune police. None of this was right and she could fix it or at least strike some fear into those assholes. That would keep her happy for at least a month. 

On a whim that afternoon, she invites Logan over that night to talk about the case when he drops her off. And dinner. It was about the case, but he's got to eat and she doubts Dick is taking care of him. It'll be good, her dad could give his input, Logan could feel at ease, and they could all move forward and solve this case. It'll be good.

* * * * *

That's it. The job offer is off the table. Piz is done with her. She didn't have to even end any of it herself, it was done for her. She knows she should feel something more than what she was...upset? Culpable? Angry at herself? She manages a few tears in the bathroom, mostly out of guilt. She feels like a horrible person but the grief over her new found freedom doesn't last as long as she thought it would. Not at all, actually. She just feels guilt, and then overwhelming relief. What is that?

Her father's anger and disappointment shakes her more than the actual removal of her lost prospects. She never wanted to let him down ever and here they were. He had asked her why she had just given up, for what, and she had started to answer him, finds her words catching in her throat as she struggles to find just the right words for his question and she just can't get it out. 

_For what?_

* * * * *

Her worst nightmare is happening. 

Everything is happening in flashes. She remembers screaming and it doesn't even sound like herself. She remembers Logan staying calm and checking for her father's pulse and his hand was firm on her forearm as he tried to loosen her grip when the emergency workers had to do their jobs. She remembers being in Logan's car, following the ambulance. She remembers pushing her hair back with both hands, gripping the roots as she cried and she felt Logan's hand on her knee and heard him saying her father was still breathing, he was stabilized, it was all going to be all right. It all sounds empty to her screaming panic. 

The nurses won't let her follow as they rush her father in. She finds herself rapidly turning and pacing in a helpless panic until Logan pulls her to him, embracing her tightly and she lets him. They stand there in the hallway for a long while, him holding her as she quietly cries against his chest, his thumb rubbing against her shoulder gently. He holds her until she doesn't want to be held anymore, and then he walks silently with her down the hallway, and then back up again, and down once more.

The severity of it all hits her on their third walk-around. Her father could have been killed. Logan could have been killed. She could have lost both of them tonight if Logan hadn't been fast enough. He looks surprised but doesn't say a thing when she wordlessly hugs him.

They separate and start to walk again and she's appreciative when he starts a story about one of his deployments, it was a pretty fucking boring story but it was enough to hold her attention and to keep her from not breaking down over her father once more. They lean against a wall and she crosses her arms over her chest as she tells him about the job offer that fell through. He doesn't say a word, just lets her talk as she admits she's not exactly upset over it. He has no reaction at all, no judgment and no disappointment and just polite condolences and support and she's grateful.

Logan's awkwardness is evident when he haltingly asks if she wants to call Piz to tell him about what's going on. She shakes her head, tightening her arms over her chest and she's thankful when he doesn't press on.

The doctor's update is good but still devastating, her father is okay but he's in critical condition and poor Sacks is dead. Another casualty of Neptune and even as she turns back to Logan, letting him embrace her, she can feel the anger in her growing, the need for justice and revenge bubbling in her. She doesn't know what to do with it but she welcomes it like an old friend. 

* * * * *

Veronica is slightly disappointed to not find Logan in bed with her when her eyes open. She had felt him lay her down and then drift away and she had fallen back asleep, thinking he would climb in. She had expected it, had hoped for it, wanted the comfort he brought and had kept to her all night. 

Comfort. The same comfort that had come from falling asleep next to him and Duncan and Lilly during movie nights, from falling asleep in his arms after crying over the exploding plane, from the feel of his fingers as they drifted off to sleep after a night of studying and laughing and making out. The same comfort that came from him just smiling at her, those brief interludes warm on her bones. For nine years, she knew that support and that comfort was there, even if the battle scars of his- _their_ \- instabilities lingered, and she had ignored it, took it for granted, and she craved it now.

Her father was in ICU, not awake and she was scared but Logan was there. She didn't need him to be strong but she wanted the comfort of his presence. There wasn't a need to wake and worry Wallace or Mac, she would leave them be because Logan was there and she hoped he wasn't thinking of sleeping on the couch, they were adults, it was silly. She just wanted him there. They didn't need to talk, just the comfort of his arm as she rests her head on it would be enough. 

She climbs out of the bed, freezing as she hears the refrigerator close. He's still there, and it takes her a moment to realize he's putting away the food her father had set out. This touches her, there's a tenderness to it which she hasn't quite gotten used to. 

She changes into a t-shirt, throwing her clothes on a nearby chair and it's more out of routine but she could already hear his teasing tone, _“oh, you were tired enough for me to carry you but...”_

With a weary sigh, she reaches for her shorts and stops when she hears his footsteps, not getting closer but fading. A panic slams into her chest, the shock of it almost knocking the wind out of her. He's leaving. He's leaving. He can't leave. She can't let him. He's leaving. Out of all the loss and threats of loss that has happened today, Logan leaving was the final one she couldn't allow and the only one she could actually control in the here and now. 

And so she does.

* * * * *

She doesn't know what she's thinking.

 _Wait, don't go._

'Don't go,' what, exactly? What was she expecting of him? She was running on pure impulse. She wanted to kiss him, so she did. She wanted him against her and she was grateful when he kissed her back and picked her up. She was thankful when he pressed her flush against that wall, when he met her halfway. When he lets her undo his pants and touch him as he touched her. When he moved inside her and continued what she started. 

Her own drive startles her. She is scared of the influx of emotions coming in waves through her, the complexity of them stunning her and even more overwhelming, the arousal. The want for him. She's scared and shaking but demanding, wanting his mouth on hers and he keeps pulling back and staring at her, making her work for it and enjoying her impatience before relenting and giving her what she wants, just like old times. 

Falling right back into old rhythms, indeed. 

She knew why she was there. Want of comfort. Fear. No desire to see him leave. Not wanting to be alone. Lust. Longing. Curiosity. Selfishness. 

But why was _he_ there? 

Maybe they were using each other.

He dips his head, his open mouth closing on the skin right beneath her ear and he sucks as her mouth drops, thrusting deep as he does so. All in one movement, smooth and graceful like she remembered. His fingers curl into her thighs as her hips roll and- oh. 

_Oh._

* * * * *

“Veronica.”

He's always said her name _that way_ since their first kiss years ago, a breathless promise of hope and love seeping through the heavy coating of passion and _lust_ , which was always somehow thicker when he was angry at her but that was always how they worked, wasn't it? Complicated, even when it was all so very obvious.

She pushes him down on her bed and he drops to a seated position, eyes following as she removes her underwear before straddling him and unbuttoning the last of his shirt that she hadn't ripped open. Her hands slide over his chest and up to his neck, her head tilting and her mouth opening on his neck. She could feel his head fall back just slightly and her eyes close as she applies pressure.

Her body was still vibrating from her orgasm several minutes earlier. No longer coursing through her was the blind fear she had beforehand. Fear over being rejected, fear over making the wrong decision, fear over what would happen after. Those fears were brushed aside as soon as they had found their rhythm, erased when he didn't run off right after. When _she_ didn't run off.

Aside from a couple of moans and heavy breathing, they were both relatively quiet when it happened and had stayed silent as they recovered against each other and when he set her down. Their eyes stayed locked as she took his hand and on shaky legs, led him to her bedroom. There was nothing said as they cleaned themselves up in the bathroom or when she led him to the bed and they just stared at each other, waiting. There was nothing said until-

“Veronica.”

God, just her name on his tongue made her want him again. The way he said it. She could hear _something_ in the depth of it. Always genuine but always something darker lingering. She felt a solidarity with that darkness. She didn't have to pretend when he said her name with that something.

His hands slide over her bare thighs, watching as she slowly lifted her shirt off her body and he tries again, surely shakier than he intended as his eyes travel down her now nude body. “Veronica. We don't have to-”

Her eyes narrow at his attempt at gentlemanly behavior and she's almost amused because now wasn't the time to be bashful, especially not after what they had done against that wall in what felt like a lifetime and an alternate world ago. With a firm resolve, she takes his hands and places them on her breasts, inhaling deeply when his thumbs run over her nipples immediately. She didn't need him to be a gentleman, she knew they both wanted this.

“Everything we're doing, I want to do,” she says softly, pulling his shirt off his shoulders. She ignores the very faint trembling of his fingers on her skin because she knew hers felt the same as they ran down his stomach. This was still so very new. They had done this before- had just done it- and still, it was new. They were strangers, still. Somewhat, still. Even after her nails had buried themselves in his skin, _still_. Even in the familiarity, there was the lingering unknown there. She wanted to explore it. 

He swallows hard, trying again. “ _Veronica_ -”

“Logan,” she let her mouth brush over his, almost shuddering in anticipation when his mouth opened for her almost instinctively. Her name coming from his mouth is both uncertainty and lust and she wants to wipe the uncertainty away, she won't regret any of this, not when this was something she had wanted since she saw him at the airport. She's willing to admit that now. “Do I look ruffled?”

The slight confusion in his eyes gives way to only lust as her hands slide lower and soon, he's hers again.

* * * * *

Veronica Mars, always the addict.

Veronica Mars, always out to get the bad guys.

Veronica Mars, always the one to make Logan Echolls beg for mercy.

She rides him hard, the way she knows he likes it. 

The first time was pure impulse and emotion. This time is about want. Need. _Sex_.

He's with her, his hands sliding and gripping and clutching and rubbing and stroking in all the right ways. His mouth on her breasts, her shoulder, her neck, her mouth. His hand fists her hair tight as she rolls her hips relentlessly, crying out when he lets out a growl of a moan and lifts his own hips to help her along. 

This is what she had been missing. The ability to turn her brain off for a bit, to allow her body to do the talking, to stop _pretending_ and to just be. She just lets it flow, lets the moans and cries to come from her lips as her hips jerk out and her thighs tighten and her nails dig into skin. His shoulders lift off the mattress as his fingers stretch over her ass and squeeze hard, moving her faster. Her stomach clenches as she inhales sharply, her mouth dropping from the extra sensation shooting through her body. 

He tries to sit up and she keeps her hands on his chest, holding him down. He doesn't seem annoyed but rolls with it, making use of his limited position. She always loved that about him, always making the most out of everything, even fucking. _Especially_ fucking. God, she had missed fucking him. She missed being _fucked_. 

Selfish. She was selfish and she couldn't find the shame for it. Not now. 

Her hand falls on the mattress, gasping when he lifts his shoulders, his mouth on her neck. She clutches the back of his hair with her free hand, meeting his thrusts and panting as he groans beneath her. His hand moves from her ass to her back, holding her against his chest and her hand moves from his hair to the back of his neck, pushing his head and forcing her mouth on his. They kiss hungrily, nine years worth. 

When she comes, she comes staggeringly hard, so hard her fingers curl into his flesh and she buckles with a sharp cry. She keeps going, jerking her hips, riding that brutal and consuming wave of pleasure, over and over. Her forehead presses against Logan's and she opens her eyes, wanting to see the exact moment he breaks apart.

* * * * *

A smile comes on Veronica's face briefly when Logan slides behind her and kisses her neck, accepting the half-drunk mug of coffee she hands him over her shoulder. She turns to face him and she can't help the smirk as she eyes his half-buttoned shirt. The other buttons are probably on the floor somewhere.

He notices, glancing down at his shirt. “Yeah, we need to stop by Dick's,” there was a pause. “Do we...” he trails off, coughing and giving her a crooked, almost abashed grin. “Do we need to...go to the drugstore or-”

“I'm on the Pill,” she interrupts, lowering her head as an equally embarrassed smile plays on her lips. She gives herself a moment before lifting her head, another moment before standing on her toes and kissing him firmly and she was relieved when he kissed her back. “Last night was great, I don't regret it, and now I'm ready to get to work,” she laughs slightly. “Are we done being awkward?”

Logan allows the smile to finally grow and he nods, taking a long sip of coffee. “Absolutely.”

“Good,” she grabs her bag and heads for the door. “Let's finish this.”

* * * * *

Cobb is down. 

Gia is dead. 

Veronica's _alive_.

She watches with satisfaction as Cobb is arrested and she gives her statement and phone number to the police department, as well as making the requisite calls to Wallace and Mac to assure them of her safety. Logan shows up and he looks alarmed but she gives him a smile and it seems to calm him. He stares down Cobb as the police escort him past them and Veronica hopes Cobb can feel the burn from both pairs of eyes trained on him, hopes their stares burn into his skin. 

Her heart is pumping but she feels content. It's a good kind of rush, she feels free. 

Logan drops her off at the hospital with a gentle order to call when she's ready to leave, no matter the time. She knows she's not going to call, she can handle herself and she knows he needs some sleep and she tells him so. He repeats his request and she nods even though they both know she's not going to listen.

Visiting hours are over but she leaves a note with the front desk just in case her father wakes saying she'll be back when visiting hours begin at 9am even though she would have stayed all night had they allowed her.

She takes a cab to Dick's at nearly midnight, knocking on Logan's room window. The entire house is dark and she's relieved when his curtain moves and there he is. He lets her in and he's in a t-shirt and his boxers but he wasn't sleeping as she knew he wouldn't. At that moment, she feels a sharp pang of guilt because he was probably worrying about her but he doesn't say a word, just hugs her and she's grateful because that's exactly what she needed. He takes a moment to pull away and silently inspect her face, pushing aside her hair with such care, she wants to close her eyes and melt into it.

And melt she does, allowing Logan to take her behind the curtain that separates his 'room' from Dick's living room. He actually sits on his bed and looks away as she pulls off her shirt and shoes and pants, and his show of respect is surprisingly endearing and oddly touching. He sits as she folds her clothes, waiting until she's only in her underwear to pull her to his bed and cover them both with his blanket. 

They lay there silently, her on her side and Logan pressed against her back, holding her firmly to his chest and she falls into the first peaceful sleep she has had in nearly ten years.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I love you. Come back to me.

She wakes at almost five in the morning, tiptoeing to the bathroom and quickly brushing her teeth. Her game plan at the moment is uncertain, but she takes a moment to enjoy having absolutely nothing to do first thing in the morning. There was no case to solve because she had solved it. No dragging her feet to a law firm because she was over it. Visiting hours at the hospital didn't start until nine. She had all the time in the world, she felt free.

She also had a rather attractive piece of man still sleeping in the other room. It's something nice to get used to.

She moves back behind the curtain and bites back a smile when Logan sleepily grabs her arm and yanks her back on the bed. He plants a kiss on her shoulder before burying his face in her hair. “No sneaking off,” he mutters, covering her up with the blanket. “You're all mine.”

So she stays.

She wakes again at nearly seven, catching a shirtless Logan as he moves around the room, his hair and body still wet from a shower. She smirks, clutching his arm as he passes and tugging him back on the bed. He lands gracefully, bracing himself on one hand as he lowers himself on top of Veronica carefully.

“No sneaking off,” she whispers between kisses, her hands sliding down his chest. “All mine...”

“I know better than to argue with someone who knows their law terminology,” he replies softly, kissing her back.

She takes her time, appreciating his military-firm body in a way she wasn't in a proper state to do so a day ago. Her body rubs against his as she wiggles so their hips lock in place and when he lets out a shaky breath, she presses harder. He still fits perfectly all around her, everything aligning just right. Her hands run down his stomach before moving to his arms, her fingers spreading over the muscles there as his head dips, leaving slow and wet kisses on her covered breasts.

“I want you,” she breathes against his mouth when he kisses her again, her hands winding to his back, her hands sliding down before pushing down his boxers.

“Yeah?” He murmurs against her chin, his hand slipping between their bodies and she gasps when he begins stroking her folds, testing just how ready she was.

“Did Dick stay out all night?” She asks through quivering breaths, her fingers circling his cock and she smiles briefly when he stifles a groan. “How loud can we get?”

Logan lifts his head, smirking down at her before letting his mouth brush over hers. “He came home around four,” he whispers, dodging when she lifts her head to kiss him. “He's probably out cold but we still have to be quiet, bobcat.”

She lifts her head, pressing her forehead against his as she guides him inside her, her lips pressing together as his mouth opens. Her head falls back on the mattress, raising her knees to her chest as he slid inside her deep and she has to clench her jaw to keep from crying out.

Logan's mouth presses against hers as he starts to thrust, picking up speed when her nails start to dig in his shoulders, her hips rising to meet his. Her moan is muffled as they start to kiss with tongue, her legs wrapping tight around his ass. She finally tears her mouth away from his, turning her head and gasping when Logan licks a line on her neck before sucking on the skin.

Her eyes stay on the thin curtain, watching for any sign of Dick and she bites down on her lower lip as Logan thrusts hard into her again, and again. She shudders in pleasure as the sound of his soft grunts filling the silence and she struggles to meet his movement, spreading her thighs more to accommodate him. This was the best way to wake up, she could _definitely_ live with this.

Veronica's mouth opens as Logan starts to move faster and her hand clutches at his hair, trying to keep up with him. Her body starts to heat up in _that way_ and her eyes shut when Logan lets out an audible moan above her. Her free hand clutches to the pillow tightly, and she finds herself breathing through her nose, trying to stop herself from groaning as he pushes harder, faster, knowing how close she really is.

His hand clamps down on her mouth as she comes and thank God for his ability to still think because she just couldn't stop her moans in time. Her hips jerk out violently against his, and he's gripping her thigh with his free hand, his teeth clenching as she moves hard beneath him, the pleasure overwhelming and she doesn't fucking care if Dick hears now. God, she doesn't care about anything other than what is happening now.

His hand moves off Veronica's mouth to her shoulder as his thrusts become harder and uneven. She presses her mouth to his neck, sucking and licking as her hands clutch at his ass, keeping him deep inside her. His head falls to her shoulder and she can hear his hoarse, strangled moan when he comes, his hips jerking out hard against hers.

“Fuck,” he hisses against her neck as she continues to roll her hips against his, riding out that pleasure, her cries muffled by his shoulder. “ _Fuck_...”

Her head hits the mattress and she gives him a slow smile when he lifts his head, a dazed expression on his face. “Get it together, lieutenant,” she whispers shakily, continuing to roll her hips. His mouth opens slightly but he meets her slow thrusts, pressing his forehead against hers. “Well, we made a mess,” she continues with a breathless laugh, brushing at the sweat on her chest.

“I think we both needed that,” he murmurs against her mouth as he relaxes against her, smiling when she grins against his lips.

About an hour and two showers later, she can feel his eyes on her as she unfolds her jeans. He's serious as they get dressed, running his hand down her arm to get her attention.

“Listen," he says softly, licking his lips and wow, he actually looks nervous. “I want you but I've got some shit to deal with and you're with Piz-”

She laughs, not knowing what else to do. “What- no. _No_. No, no, no, I'm not with Piz, Logan. We broke up the other...” she trails off, giving him a sly smile. “I'm a free agent, lieutenant.”

His expression is unreadable. “No grieving period? Single and ready to mingle, huh?”

“Something like that. And I'm willing to take on your shit along with mine, we don't have to do this alone. We don't need to do labels right now,” her smile grows when he returns the grin before continuing to dress in front of her, never breaking their eye contact.

“So," she continues, pulling on her shirt. “I'm in the mood for some schadenfreude and I appear to have a _certain_ incriminating file inside a _certain_ trucker hat,” her arm winds around his waist and she smiles when he pulls her into a hug. “Feel like breakfast before we go nail Lamb? God, I missed saying that.”

He smirks, leaving a kiss on the tip of her nose. “I love it when you talk dirty.”

The rest of the morning is genuinely fun. Running back to her father's to change while Logan cooks breakfast. Eating, joking and flirting with Logan, ruining Dan Lamb's life, riding around in Logan's BMW and just being able to be herself. She feels good without the extra weight on her shoulders. Free keeps floating around in her head and she supposed that's what she was. _Free._

She invites Logan over to the hospital and he politely, if awkwardly, declines, dropping her off and making her promise to call when they kick her out. He's not ready to mingle with her father and she's slightly touched he was willing to do it the other day, just because she asked.

Sometime during the evening, she falls asleep and wakes to her father's smiling face and she can't stop the happy tears from welling in her eyes. She sits up, her smile growing and she inhales deeply, blinking back the tears. “Well, it's about time, ya big drama queen.”

* * * * *

The first week is weird, but still normal, and yet hard. It was always complicated when it came to them. And still, as Logan had said, they fall right back into their old rhythms.

Maybe they're moving too fast, too recklessly, and yet she can't bring herself to care. She _wants_ this. 

Logan is in a weird place of trying to date her or whatever they're doing and deal with his feelings about what happened with Carrie at the same time. She's in a weird place of dating him or whatever they're doing and trying to deal with the major shifts in her life. Piz calls once to arrange shipment of her things and the call is civil enough, or as civil as it can be. 

She's busy trying to run Mars Investigations, he's busy meeting with his superiors and doing paperwork. She works five hour days with a note about the reduced hours for the time being, spending the rest of her days visiting her father, tidying up the house and being with Logan. It's a nice, new routine. 

They spend most of their time sneaking around to avoid the nosy press and don't go out to the beach until late at night when it's too cold to swim so they just walk, arm in arm, and talk. He talks about the last nine years and Carrie, she talks about the last nine years and her excitement to get back to investigating full time. He seems genuinely happy for her and she listens quietly when he needs to get out whatever emotion he has to. She brings him lunch when Dick wrangles him into an afternoon surfing session, he drops her off at the hospital and for lunch dates with Wallace at Neptune High. 

Sometimes, they just sit in her father's living room, watching a movie or Veronica reading out loud articles criticizing Dan Lamb's leadership while Logan strokes her hair. Sometimes, she works on a small case on her laptop while he rubs her legs and enjoys a drink. It's nice. 

It's almost normal.

* * * * * 

“Veronica...I'm really not happy. You're taking on cases and taking up with Logan and this is a step backwards-”

“I'm happy.”

“You're happy now but Logan-”

“He saved your life, dad. He's different and it's been nine years. You owe him another chance. For me.”

“I don't know what is going on in your head.”

“Respect my decisions, please?”

“I'm just worried. You're my daughter, and I'm worried.”

“Don't be, I can take care of myself. Do you want this pudding or can I have it?”

* * * * *

“So, I was thinking,” Logan murmurs against her skin as he kisses his way down her stomach. “I'm done in about a year. Maybe two years, tops. I can do whatever I want. Maybe we can go away for a bit to some island or another country, then we can come home and you can do your thing, I can...I can become a flight instructor, or maybe...”

Her back arches as he buries his face between her thighs, her fingers curling and clutching at his hair. She glances at the open window, wishing she had closed the curtains before they sat down to watch some television and Logan got other ideas. “A personal body relaxer, maybe?” she says breathlessly as she spreads her thighs. “Human dildo?”

He lifts his head and she has to laugh at the pure annoyance on his face. “The preferred term is sex slave.”

“Sorry-” she's cut off by her own moan when he finally starts, her feet pressing on the living room floor as she slides down slightly. He holds her still and she awkwardly sits up, her fingers combing through his hair as he gets right to work. No teasing, just results. “Don't stop,” she pants, their previous conversation forgotten. His chuckle vibrates through her and she lets out a gasp. “Please don't stop.”

* * * * *

They lay in bed one night, on their sides and facing each other as they talk about everything and nothing. Sometimes he pauses to push her hair behind her ears, sometimes she cuts herself off to lean forward for a kiss. It's almost normal and she can't stop being pleasantly surprised at how easy it's been to slip back into this.

She shrugs, running her finger over his bicep. “I don't know, maybe I should still take the bar? Just do it? I've already gone this far.”

“You should. If that's what you want. What's more badass than a detective with a law degree?”

“A detective in a leather catsuit?”

“Hey, we called a timeout."

“So not even innuendo?” Veronica snaps her fingers before slapping his arm lightly. “ _Damn_. There goes thirty percent of my conversational skills.”

“Not even that for another...thirty-two minutes. I need to get my strength up.”

“Fine. Are you going to take me flying one day?”

The surprise on his face is visible but brief and he quickly smiles to cover for the show of emotion. “What, like rent a private jet or something and take you out? I'll have to take the FAA exam first but that's nothing.”

She fans herself, giving him her best sultry eyes. “God, I love it when you talk professional...”

“Stop.” Logan grins, cupping her face in his hand. “Let's go flying, baby.”

“Is that code for let's have sex because...”

“Veronica. Man, I've created a monster.”

* * * * *

“What?”

Wallace shrugs, chewing on the last of his pizza. “ _What_? _You're_ edgy.”

Veronica laughs, glancing down at her plate. She glances up when she thinks she sees Logan's car, hopeful that he had changed his mind about joining them, but alas... “I'm not, you've just been staring at me for the last five minutes. Say what you want to say.”

“Girl, why do you always-”

“I know you so stop deflecting. Out with it!”

Wallace picks up his beer, taking a long sip. “Are you sure you're not making a mistake? About everything?”

She rolls her eyes, her head dropping. “Not you too...”

He holds up his hands defensively. “I'm not judging! I'm just concerned.”

“Thanks for the concern but don't be. I'm happy, even if I'm not slaving away in an office, working ninety hours a week,” she gives him a small smile. “Don't I look happy?”

Wallace hesitates for a moment before grinning back. “Yeah. You actually do.”

“Okay!” She brings her beer bottle to her lips, shaking her head in disbelief. “Gosh, so many people want me miserable, what's _that_ about?”

His smile grew and he pointed a finger at her. “You better stop, that's not what I meant.”

“Are you sure?”

“We're done talking.”

“Great, my plan worked!” Veronica laughs when Wallace makes a face at her. She hadn't realized how much she had missed this. She had definitely made the right choice.

* * * * *

The sex is still amazing. Every night, multiple times, each time as good as the last. Logan jokes they have nine years to make up for and she doesn't disagree. They don't exchange anything close to “I love you's,” but the moments when they're staring into each other's eyes and he's brushing her hair off her cheek or she's softly kissing his chin seem to be enough of a confirmation of any questions either might have had about the other's commitment to whatever they were doing.

She loves the sex. She likes it when it's tender but she loves it when it's chaotic. Clothes ripping, loud, rough, fun. It's not "nice" or good enough, it's actually _fun_. She finds herself smiling or even laughing during or afterward, more elated because he smiles and laughs with her. There's a connection.

They're all over each other. She can't tell if it's because of the current events of their lives, a hyper-aware 'you only live once,' indulgence, if you will. Or was it the whole finally getting to experience each other again after so many years of not being able to thing? Were they both relapsing after being clean for so long? 

He makes her feel dirty, and she loves it. His hands roam her body while she rides him, makes her shiver and move harder. She bites on his lip and he bites harder on her neck until she's making him beg for release. He pulls her hair sometimes because she likes it and she scratches down his back because he likes it and it's almost animalistic and she loves it. She's not ashamed or wanting to wash the dirt off, she wants to rub it in and keep him there with her until they're both unable to move or care.

She gives him a blowjob when they should be watching the movie playing on her father's television. He has her against the bathroom sink and soon he's carrying her into the shower. She's stripping in front of him as he's cooking dinner before coaxing him to her bedroom and they have to order takeout that night. It's a joyous distraction from the very real worry in her life. 

She finds herself wilder and more free during this mini version of _9 1/2 Weeks_ they have going on. She knows they should both feel guilty, she has just gotten out of a relationship and his last girlfriend just got murdered. They should both be alone for a while, but she doesn't care to, doesn't care about what anyone thinks. Not when he makes her feel the way she does.

The things that come out of her mouth, things she would never say around others, things she hoped her father would never find out, things she only says to Logan when her teeth are bared in frenzied passion and her entire self is wrapped up in him. Things she tries to forget until he's smirking at her in that way while they eat dinner or when he's eying her while chewing on the cap of his pen and it's then she has to control herself, to remind herself they're not eighteen, they're adults, dammit, and should be acting like it.

But it's not just sex. The other positive in spending nine years apart, growing up and trying again is the strong unity between them. They're actually, finally, a team.

Sometimes he helps her with a case, he's waiting with the engine running, he's at her side as intimidation for the more anxious rats, he's supplying coffee for late night stakeouts at the Camelot. He never really interferes or jumps in unless she asks him to and it's really nice. She doesn't feel guilty about her work around him, she loves that he listens intently to her stories. He has dinner waiting for her on the nights she works late and he always asks how her day was. 

He begins to show up at the hospital with her and she's surprised at her father's cordial demeanor toward Logan. Her father seems to defrost when Logan calls him “sir” and soon, she's opening the packages for her father's lunch while they discuss Logan's job. They won't be sharing beers any time soon but it's a start. 

They meet up for dinner one night at her father's place and he drops the news that he has to deploy in a week and a half. 

She had just gotten him back.

There's a silence that sits heavy between them. Logan sits across from her, one hand holding hers, the other cupping his mouth as he stares at her, waiting. She struggles for a moment, lowering her head as she tries to gather her thoughts and control her emotions. 

It's funny, really. She finds herself upset. Angry at the concern in his eyes, at the almost matter-of-fact way he breaks this news. Almost grieving. Panicking. And then, she inhales deeply and puts on a brave face for him even as the devastation shakes her. 

She lifts her head, smiles and makes a quip. He tells her to stop but she rolls her eyes, pulling her hand from his grasp. “Just for that news, I'm going to need you to drop and give me twenty, lieutenant.”

“You don't have to be _on_ all the time, you know,” he says quietly as she stands, walking to the kitchen “I'm sad, too.”

“I'm not sad!” she exclaims with a laugh that's a bit too strained. “Do you want some ice cream?”

He inhales deeply, staring down at his plate and he looks so defeated, then. “It's okay if you are.”

“We have chocolate peanut butter! You want some...” she trails off, giving him an exaggerated wink. “And _then some_?”

She falters when he lifts his head and she can see the sadness in his eyes for the briefest of moments. Then, he smiles. “Sure.”

* * * * *

“What are your plans after this deployment, Logan?”

Logan looks up from his meticulous unwrapping of Keith's sandwich brought in by the floor nurse, giving him a faintly uncomfortable smile. “Well, I'm done in about two years so that's pretty awesome.”

Keith shrugs, shaking his head as Veronica watches the exchange warily from her seat on the corner of her father's hospital bed. “You have to have a plan B...”

Logan nodded, setting the sandwich on Keith's tray. “Maybe take a couple of months off,” he glances at Veronica, giving her a small smile. “Go on vacation...” he trails off, returning his gaze to Keith. “Maybe be a flight instructor? Not really sure yet. Sky's the limit. Sir.”

“He's currently reviewing his options,” Veronica offers. “The list is extensive.”

“What's on this _extensive list_ , Logan? If that's okay with your representative, here,” Keith asks, giving Veronica a pointed look. 

Logan grins, glancing from Veronica to Keith. “I kind of think I want to stick to flying planes, sir. Something to keep the good, ol' adrenaline pumping, like-”

“ _Logan_ ,” Veronica interrupts, shriller than she intended, “Can you please get me a diet soda?”

Keith waits until Logan exits the room before glancing at Veronica and giving her the look. “Veronica. Logan isn't sleeping over at the house, is he.”

Veronica lowers her magazine slightly, a tight smile on her face. “...No.”

“Veronica.”

“No!”

* * * * *

“I don't want to go to the hangar.”

Logan doesn't seem to have any sort of reaction, good or bad. He simply nods, reaching over and picking up his mug of coffee. “You don't have to,” he says before taking a long sip.

She worries her lower lip with her teeth, refusing to look at him. “Did you want me to go?”

“Veronica, I always go alone. It doesn't bother me. I prefer not to have an audience anyway.”

“I mean, I'll go if you want me to,” she says with a weakly anxious laugh. “I was just-”

Logan grins slowly, his eyes reflecting an easy, genuine warmth that almost throws her. He's not annoyed or hurt, he's actually taking it completely in stride. “Mars, this is me letting you off the hook. Don't even feel bad,” he grasps her hand, kissing her knuckles lightly. “It's okay. It's honestly not a big deal, the thing is overrated, anyway.”

“Really?”

“Yes, _really_ ,” he releases her, drinking the rest of his coffee. “Come on. I'll drive you to the office.”

Veronica stands warily, her gaze lowering as he reaches over and runs his hand down her back before heading for the door. “I'll go if you want me to...”

“Stop,” he says with a laugh. “You're making this into a bigger deal than it has to be.”

She smiles tightly, nodding. She waits until he's out the door to let out a shaky breath. He's absolving her of all guilt, not applying any labels to their thing, and yet she still feels like she's disappointing him. Maybe this is one of the Herculean labors of going home, disappointing everyone she loves.

“Move it, bobcat!”

Or maybe she's just being hard on herself.

* * * * *

She becomes irritable one day, and she could feel the freeze from her own cold shoulder and terse responses throughout the day. He feels it too and grabs her by the hips abruptly as she rushes to leave Java the Hut, jerking her back to his chest. He traps her in by locking his hold at the wrists, even as she elbows his torso.

“You can pick all the fights you want, I still have to leave,” he mutters in her ear, ignoring the people forced to walk around them. “We have six days left.”

He releases her, walking out of the cafe without a backward glance. After a moment, she follows.

Logan doesn't look at her when she catches up, her shoulder bumping against his arm. When she entwines her fingers with his, he exhales, giving her hand a firm squeeze.

Nothing was ever easy for them, but she found herself willing to really fight for it this time, even if it meant losing him for six months.

* * * * *

She's trying to get used to this more mature, disciplined Logan. Sometimes she braces herself, holds a breath and waits for the explosion. Instead, Logan inhales deeply and nods before talking evenly, or he crouches so he's eye to eye with her seated at her father's desk as he explains why he disagrees with her decision to follow a gang banger at two in the morning.

Finally, she concedes, promising to pass on the assignment. He had a point, as much as she hated to admit it, and she wasn't willing to get into a fight over something so avoidable.

When he leaves, Mac is watching them warily until Logan turns, leaving a quick kiss on Veronica's lips before turning to Mac and offering her a cordial, if awkward, “Nice seeing you, Mac.”

She whistles when he's gone, glancing at Veronica before turning to her computer. “No slamming of doors? No yelling? Everyone is calm? Invasion of the pod people...”

Veronica smiles weakly before retreating to the office. Girl talk about her boyfriend-lover-whatever wasn't something she wanted to get into at the moment.

* * * * *

He doesn't let her slam the door in his face, following her into her bedroom. “Are you seriously reading me the riot act? For _what_?”

She spun around, laughing bitterly as she shook her head. “Look, you're _really_ pissing me off-”

“Why are you so angry at me?” his voice rises, his patience clearly thinning to a dangerous level.

She pauses, examining his face. He's really upset, glaring at her and he would be, she had to admit her attitude that day had been unbearable. And yet, she wasn't willing to back down, her colliding emotions consuming. She can feel the loss creeping up on them, in days they won't even be able to have these trivial fights, they won't have anything except emails and sporadic Skype sessions. They would have nothing. “Because you fucking-”

“Bullshit, I didn't do anything. Say what you want to say.”

“Logan-”

“What are you trying to _say_?”

“You _just_ -” she cuts herself off, realizing she doesn't have a reason. She doesn't have a way to get out the nervous tightening of her chest. To get across the frustration and anger and fear over a situation they can't help or avert.

She's suddenly tired of fighting the things she can't fix.

Veronica shakes her head, pulling Logan to her and wrapping her arms around his waist. She lets out a breath when he embraces her, running his hand over the back of her head. Her eyes close when he kisses the top of her head. “Logan...”

“It's happening too fast,” he mumbles, pulling back and cupping her face. “I know. I'm sorry.”

She nods, her fingers curling over the back of his neck as she pulls him down for a firm kiss. She wants to tell him she appreciates him, she's loved their time together, she's scared- so scared- of six months of the unknown, she...

With a shake of her head, she kisses him again instead, wrapping her arms around his neck when he kisses her back. They had to make the best of this situation, they just had to.

* * * * *

Three days left.

Veronica begins to panic, even though she won't admit it. They both kind of are. It's a mature, stressed panic. A calm panic, if there was ever a thing.

They're taking pictures of each other. A lot of pictures. Logan while he's cooking, Veronica as she makes a face while brushing her teeth, Logan as he sticks out his tongue while driving and his eyes obscured by his sunglasses, Veronica with the unhappiest of looks as she drinks her first cup of coffee. Together in front of the bathroom mirror, together in bed, together as they sit on the couch and Veronica's tongue on Logan's nose as he smiles rather cheekily. Those dreaded annoying couple selfies of them kissing, hugging, making faces, smiling nicely. She records him as he tells a funny story about training, he records her as she does her uncanny impersonation of principal Clemmons.

They're hugging more, touching more, kissing more. They talk just to hear each other's voices. They have sex more, slower now and taking their time. She lets him run his fingers through her hair as she's typing up a case report and he allows her to dart tiny annoying kisses to his nose as he talks to his executive officer through speakerphone.

On the third night to doomsday, they find themselves in bed, still together and into it but there's an underlying sadness there. She doesn't need to analyze it in her head or discuss it with him, she knows why. He knows why.

The last of her orgasm vibrates through her, her fingers curling into his flesh as her thighs keep tight over his hips as hers continue to jerk out. His hands slide up and down her back, her ass, her thighs, his breath ragged against her chest. After it's done, they sit there, she straddling him and he rubbing her back, both silent but the sad tension sitting heavy between them.

“I don't want you to go,” she blurts out suddenly, less of a statement and more of a whimper and she's ashamed by the weakness in her voice.

Logan falters, awkwardly resting his chin on her shoulder before burying his face against her neck. “Me neither.”

* * * * * 

Logan slips and calls her "baby" the morning, two days before doomsday, while he cooks breakfast. She hands him a glass of juice and he goes “thanks, baby” before turning the omelet.

A week and a half in and the pet names had been restricted to “lieutenant” and “detective,” casual but still tentatively formal. “Baby” was saved for more tawdry activities, _baby fuck fuck yes baby God baby please_ , when he was close to the edge and not thinking with the total amounts of his brain. When they could both disregard it as the nonsense that is the pre-orgasm bullshit.

They were lucid now, however, and she can see him lower his head and blink rapidly, the only sign he didn't plan that term of endearment. She's surprised to be slightly put off by his recoil and quickly turns on her heel, walking to the refrigerator. They don't speak, just listen to the Black Keys, until Logan is done cooking and Veronica tries it as he sets down her plate, “thanks, babe.”

It feels a bit weird on her tongue but it also feels right, like nine years hasn't passed since she had last called him _babe honey love you too bye_ , it feels like she could be more comfortable saying it now than she was back then.

The nervous turn of her stomach is eased when Logan leans down, kissing the top of her head with a murmured “you're very welcome” against her hair.

“I never thought cooking would be one of your many talents and yet, here we are,” Veronica says, taking a happy bite of her bacon.

“Yeah, you tend to learn to fend for yourself when you're living with Dick,” he grins, scooping up a bag from the counter before taking the seat next to Veronica. He slid the bag over before rubbing her shoulder tenderly. “Signed blu ray set of _True Detective_. For your dad. Parker sends her regards,” he pauses, giving her a small smile. “I pulled a favor. She owns me now.”

She rubs her lips together to hide her smile as she opens the bag, turning the box in her hands. “You pulled in a _favor_? My dad's approval means that much to you?”

He shrugs, covering his mouth behind his fingers as he rests his chin on the palm of his hand. “Think it'll work?”

Veronica shrugs in return, returning the box to its wrapping. “Maybe,” she turns to him, a faint smile on her face. “Kiss me, please,” she whispers and he grins, leaning in and pressing his lips against hers.

* * * * *

“The cab is going to be outside at exactly 5am. I'll try not to wake you-”

“Wake me.”

“I...I'm- we're going to say goodbye quick, okay? We're just going to pull the band-aid off and I'm going to leave, okay?”

“Logan, I don't want to talk about this right now...”

“Veronica, _please_. I'm going to leave, okay? It's going to be one hundred and eighty days and it's going to fucking suck. I won't look at you when I leave because then I'll stay, okay? We need to plan this.”

“I'm perfectly okay with you staying, you know. We can fake your death, give you a goatee. How does Stanley Blank sound for your new name? We can live in a van down by the river.”

“Veronica, stop. We only have one more day.”

* * * * *

They choose to spend their final night at Dick's rather than a hotel, it's just easier for Logan that way. Logan manages to convince Dick to spend the night at the Neptune Grand, comping his bill, which Dick negotiates to include complete room service and two porn movies. Logan gladly pays.

Their night is quiet and almost perfect. She brings Italian food, he made sure to stock some rocky road and mint chocolate chip ice cream for dessert. They don't turn on the television, opting instead to talk and eat and make out a lot. It was going to be a quiet and romantic night in.

She barely has two containers of food opened before he's kissing her neck and they can't make it to his bed. She comes bent over the table and knocks a glass of wine on one container of lasagna. They clean themselves and the table up, sharing the other plate of lasagna and the bread. He lets her have the side of ravioli. 

She helps herself to several glasses of wine.

She's feeling no pain by nine, climbing and stumbling over Dick's couch, her shirt button caught in her hair as she nearly cackles. Logan's chuckle warms its way down her spine as he frees her, telling her he was cutting her off from the wine as she tries to yank off his shirt. She ignores him, quietly singing as she kisses her way down his neck.

Several glasses of water, various five minute intervals of asking, whining and demanding Logan to have sex with her and two hours later, and she's down to a nice buzz.

“Can you drop and give me twenty _now_ , lieutenant?”

“How about _you_ drop and give _me_ twenty?”

“Don't tell me what to do, _sailor_.”

“Exactly how much did you drink before you got here?”

* * * * *

She's grasping her pillow as her teeth dig into her lip at a particularly intense wave, her legs tightening their lock around his back. He's taking his time, thrusting slow, licking and kissing a measured line between her breasts. A groan escapes him when she arches her back, tightening around him.

His hand moves, wiggling its way and loosening her hold on the pillow, entwining their hands together. His other hand clutched at her thigh, pulling her leg higher up as he began to thrust harder. She makes a noise between a gasp and a whine, fucking him as hard as he was her, wanting to make him feel everything she was feeling.

Logan's mouth slides up her chest and over her jaw, dragging across her mouth in a deep kiss that leaves her breathless with its intensity. God, when he wants to make an impression, he _makes an impression_.

She unwraps her legs, her free hand pressing against his shoulder, pushing him on his back and straddling him. “Gotta level the playing field,” she says breathlessly, pinning his hand down against the mattress before jerking her hips hard.

He grunts beneath her, a smile curling on his lips as he grips her hip with his free hand. “Baby, I can do this with my hands tied and blindfolded.”

She leans down, rolling her hips relentlessly against his. “Prove it,” she gasps, her lips brushing over his.

Veronica's teeth grit as he starts to lift his hips, his hand clutching at her back as they move together. She lets out a cry as he starts to suck on her neck, her hand moving to the back of his head, grasping onto his hair. Her breaths come in shaky gasps as he gets to a half-seated position, maneuvering his way to her breasts as her back arches.

She's almost lost in this, but she still hears his hoarse chant of “Veronica, Veronica, Veronica, God, _Veronica_...”

* * * * *

By 1am, she's completely sober, running her finger over his profile and smiling as he kisses the pad of her finger as it trails over his lips. It's these quiet moments she thinks she loves the most. She always has, even when they were fighting or not in the best place, it was always a look or a quick kiss that would give her butterflies.

For six months, they weren't going to have the quiet moments. The reality of it sits heavy on her chest.

“Throw on some pants, lieutenant,” she abruptly whispers against his chest, leaving a kiss on his skin before sitting up.

“What? Why?”

She glances at him over her shoulder, smiling slightly as she pulls on his dress shirt and buttons it. “I want to sit on the porch and listen to the water.”

His gaze softens into something she doesn't want to dig into and he squeezes her hand before sitting up. “Sure.”

* * * * *

Veronica's eyes close as his hands move under her- his- shirt as she rolls her hips slowly, feeling her hot, hot skin as her nails dig into his shoulders. Her cheek presses against his temple until he lifts his head, gazing into her eyes.

 _This_ was the Logan she couldn't share with her circle, the tender, quiet side of him. No one could understand how she felt when he looks into her eyes like _that_. The Logan she couldn't possibly explain to anyone or herself. Fuck, she's going to miss him.

Her eyes flutter shut as he kisses her softly, his fingers trailing down her cheek. He's just impossibly gentle with her and she wants to remember this, wants to hold on to everything that had happened over the last two weeks. It was going to have to last for the next six months.

She glances at her phone sometime later, resting at the corner of the bed. 3am. They only have two hours left.

Logan is at least half-asleep beside her, so she turns, burying herself against his chest and trying to at least nap. The tears threaten to break at the corners of her eyes and she refuses them, shutting her eyes and begging for sleep, or at least something close to it.

* * * * *

He turns and looks at her before he leaves.

She blinks rapidly, feeling the tears drop on her cheeks as she scrambles for her phone, scrolling for his name with shaking hands. The panic hits abruptly, it wasn't something she was expecting. It's terrible.

She quickly texts him before her brain can catch up with her, her breath coming in shuddering gasps. She wipes at her face, her lips pressing together.

_I love you. Come back to me._

The text comes exactly eleven minutes later.

_You can tell me face2face in 180._

Then, a minute later-

_I love you too. Always._


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I'll always want you.”

She gathers herself systematically until she's satisfied with the mask she's sculpted. 

She packs Logan's shirt- okay, three of his shirts- in her bag and cleans up his little corner the best she can. It takes about three and a half hours after her brief panic attack to shower, wash her hair, get herself together. Hair done, light makeup applied, clothes on.

Dick points at her with the spoon in his hand as she lugs her bags to the door. His surfboard rests against the wall, the bowl of cereal in his hand coming precariously close to dipping over to the floor. “Y'know, Logan left four hours ago. I'm going to start charging you rent.”

She looks up at him and his gaze seems to soften and _shit_ , her mask isn't as hardened as she thought.

“Come on, Ronnie...Logan's coming back. He always does.”

“I-” she nearly flinches at the slight quiver of her voice and clears her throat. “I know.”

Stronger. Better.

He gives her a smirk, and it is like their previous exchange had never happened. “If you get real lonely, I can clear my schedule...”

She rolls her eyes, making her way to a hasty exit. “Yeah, I'll swing by ten after never, Dick.”

* * * * *

From: vmars@gmail.com  
To: l.echolls@gmail.com  
Subject: Tower, this is Ghost Rider.

_You know, when I said I loved you, I meant it in a friendly neighbor way. A good luck, comrade of sixteen years way. Just so you know._

_Hope you're riding through the highway to the danger zone!_

From: l.echolls@gmail.com  
To: vmars@gmail.com  
Subject: RE: Tower, this is Ghost Rider.

_I love and miss you too, Veronica. In a friendly neighbor, comrade of sixteen years way. Just so you know._

_Do you have any idea how many Top Gun jokes I've heard? I've lost that loving feeling._

* * * * *

Case after case. She takes any case she can, no matter how small, to keep Mars Investigations afloat while her father recuperates. Mac quits Kane Software and jumps on board the currently sinking ship.

Her father is doing better, he's finally released from the hospital and is able to walk around the house with the help of his cane. She ignores the looks of judgment he shoots her every so often. She carries on, though, enjoying the work and determined to prove her father wrong.

When she's not working, she hangs with Wallace and Mac, drinking and catching up on _Game of Thrones_. She doesn't think she's laughed so much in years. She had missed them. It's so nice to just be herself.

Whenever Logan manages a Skype call, she puts on her brave, happy face for him and the warmth in his eyes always leaves her wanting more. They keep their conversations light, or at least they try to. She's shocked by how much she misses him. The hole in her chest only grows as the days go by. The longer he's gone, the more her feelings intensify. It's becoming almost painful. 

One hundred and sixty-two days to go.

* * * * *

Veronica runs into Piz by chance one day when she drives to Hearst college on a case. She doesn't even know why the hell he's there. She's not sure she wants to find out. He stands in front of a bulletin board with a group of students and what looks like a professor, speaking and holding up some fliers.

He spots her seconds after she stops in her tracks at the sight of him. He falters in his speech, the hand holding the fliers lowering. She doesn't move, waiting for the ice cold shoulder. 

She knew he definitely didn't owe her politeness, he didn't owe her a damn thing. Hell, they didn't owe each other anything. Did they even have anything to say to each other? Actually, she knew what she would have said to him. “I'm sorry I hurt you.” She wanted to let him know nothing that happened was planned, there was no way she could have predicted what happened. And yet she stays on her spot, staring at him and waiting.

Then, he smiles, raising his arm and waving at her. 

She exhales, relieved, and lifts her hand, waving back briefly. She backs away and turns as the students turn to look at her, continuing her walk to the dean's office.

* * * * *

She's lonely.

Even with her father and all of her friends around, she's lonely. She knows why, she misses Logan. For two weeks, she was spoiled. He was always there, always listening, always touching. She misses tiny things like holding hands. Kissing. Resting her head on his chest while her foot rubs over his leg. The feel of his body against hers as she gives in to sleep. The low tone as he murmurs in her ear. The way the corners of his eyes would crinkle when she said something that amused him. 

These pangs hit when she catches couples being disgustingly couple-y in her line of vision. When she hears a song she could remember him bobbing his head to. When she's stuck on a stake out at two in the morning without company and she allows her mind to drift for a precious few seconds. These pangs leave her sadder, always. 

She knows she's not alone. She has her friends and her father. She knows this. And yet, she can't describe this very particular loneliness, the kind they can't fill and it frustrates her. 

She gets angry, an anger she doesn't know what to do with. Logan doesn't answer an email fast enough, he misses a Skype meeting, he tries to call her and the connection is so broken and full of static, she sits with her jaw clenched, waiting for the call to drop. It's not his fault. It's definitely not his fault, but she misses him. And she doesn't know how to tell him. She's not a whiner. 

Instead, she pours herself into her measly cases and channels her aggression and the emotional seesaw into catching some cheaters. She dives into it so when Logan does finally get through, she can greet him with a smile like the brave little toaster she is. Feelings aren't something she can express properly, so she trades the more complex ones for those she can control. Determination. Pride. A happy smile that's too tight. A laugh that's too sharp. A posture that's too rigid. Goodbyes quiet enough so he can't hear the tremble in her voice.

God, she's lonely.

* * * * *

Veronica stabs her spoon into her ice cream, giving her father a sidelong glance before returning her attention to her bowl. “Have you talked to mom since...”

He sighs, scooping up ice cream on his spoon. “Here and there. Maybe you want to give her some legal-”

“Ha, _no_. No, thanks,” she says with a laugh. “I am perfectly fine doing the heavy lifting _way_ over on the detective end.”

“Your brother is a character-”

“ _Half_ -brother,” she interrupts, unable to keep the sharpness from her voice. “What exactly is happening right now?”

Her father sets down his spoon, holding up his hands defensively. “All I'm saying is, time has passed and you shouldn't hold grudges-”

“I'm not holding a grudge. I've let it go even though I don't have to. It doesn't mean we have to spend Christmas together. We can just leave it at that.”

“It's good to have-”

“I don't _need_ anything else,” Veronica says firmly. “I have you, and Wallace, and Mac, and Lo-” she cuts herself off, staring down at her bowl. This is going somewhere it doesn't need to go and she truly wishes her father hadn't chosen their family time to talk about it. “I am fine, dad. Promise.”

Her eyes close briefly as he runs a hand over her head. “Veronica, it's important to have closure.”

She gives her father a tight smile, picking up her spoon. “I don't need closure. I have you.”

* * * * *

She sits at an angle for the next Skype session so he can't see the darkening bruise just over her cheekbone. A stakeout gone wrong and she was lucky to have her taser on hand. A stupid mistake led to the incident, and it wouldn't happen again.

“Hey. Look at me.”

She tugs on her hair in what she hopes is a casual move as she faces Logan, fixing a smile on her lips. “Hey, you.”

After a moment delay, he leans forward. “Move your hair. Please.”

Veronica presses her lips together. Of course he would notice, even through the slightly pixelated interruptions in their video chat. Nothing ever slipped by him, it always made their relationships interesting. Two people always looking, always searching. 

She pushes her hair behind her ears, gives him a grim smile and waits. After the delay, he reacts. She can see him inhale sharply, his jaw clenching. “It's not that bad.”

“Shit, whoever did that is so _fucking_ lucky I'm across the ocean because-” he cuts himself off, bringing his fist to his mouth as he shakes his head. 

“Yeah, he got it worse,” she says lightly with a laugh. Her smile fades when he stares straight ahead at her, or right where she would have been on his screen. He doesn't say a word, just lets out a breath, his jaw still clenched. “I'm okay, Logan.”

“I know you are. I just...I just wish I was there.”

She sits up, smiling bright and hoping her good mood is infectious. “So how's it going?”

* * * * *

She starts to take evening lessons on how to use her gun. Her father goes with her sometimes and gives her pointers. Many times, she has to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from telling him no, she won't be using it. Deep down, she knows he's right, it's necessary. It doesn't mean she has to like it.

Even Logan offers to show her how to use the gun when he gets back. She's almost appalled at how he swiftly takes her father's side, like her having a gun was the most obvious of ideas. Several email exchanges told her Lt. Echolls was heavily trained, which obviously included hand-to-hand and armed combat. He could actually seriously hurt or even kill a person if he really wanted to. Luckily, he hasn't had to use his weapons beyond the training areas. Yet.

She tries to pass the gun back to her father numerous times, and he always rebuffs her, insisting it was for the best, especially if they were to be partners.

She accepts it, but it doesn't mean she has to like it.

* * * * * 

She grins when he finally appears. “Hey. Two days!” Her smile fades when the look of near-pain on his face finally registers. “What?”

“Thirteen. Thirteen days.”

Veronica feels her chest tighten. “No, we have _two_ days. You said a hundred and eighty days,” she swallowed hard, hating how small her voice sounded then. “I counted. A hundred and eighty.”

“Approximately. The dates have changed,” he sighs heavily. “Don't be mad.”

“I'm not mad!” She lowers her head, wiping at the corner of her eye. “I'm just...disappointed. That's all.”

“Hey.”

She lifts her head at the sound of his voice. The devastation must be clear on her face because he inhales sharply, a strained smile on his face that she was sure was supposed to be comforting. “Yeah.”

“Remember, after this, I'm home. I won't have to do this again for a year. At least. Maybe never again.”

She laughs, trying to keep the bitterness from her voice. “Well, that's some good news!”

“How are you? Other than me just ruining your day.”

“The usual. It was actually boring today. Mac and I organized the files.”

“Your excitement never ends,” his smirk fades. “I wish I could touch you, Veronica.”

She puts a grin on her face, even though it doesn't reach her eyes. That was a loaded comment from him, she knew what it meant. He missed her, he missed her body, he missed her everything. She knew _exactly_ what it meant, she felt the same. The nights are lonely, she turns to someone who isn't there, she sees or hears something absurd and wants to tell him so he can laugh too but he's not there. She misses his body against hers, she misses his strong arms around her, his hand holding hers. The loneliness is something her friends and her father unfortunately cannot fill and it is just brutal.

Instead of vocalizing it like she knew he probably wanted, she carries on. “Thirteen days! Then it's non-stop one on one time in a hotel far away from Dick for a whole day before my dad reports me missing.”

Logan laughs, rubbing at his eyes. “Can't wait.”

She fidgets, glancing down at her lap and allowing herself one moment of weakness. “I miss you, too.”

* * * * *

She waits until Logan signs off to allow herself a good cry and for the first time, she isn't sure she can deal with this. She hopes he doesn't change his mind, she hopes he keeps his word about this being his last tour. She allows herself the moment to stop being Miss Optimism and to really face the reality of her life as it currently was.

Her nerves are shot after that spring break case and her mother now nipping at the back of her mind. She misses Logan. She isn't taking not having Wallace around all the time well. Her money is dwindling. She had just begun investigating Weevil's case and it's already overwhelming her. Her father's health is constantly worrying her. She doesn't want to carry a fucking gun. 

She had wanted to talk to Logan, to vent at him about her mother for a bit, to hear him, to have his voice soothe her. However, now they had thirteen more days apart. She couldn't even bring herself to talk about her recent problems after Logan decided to pile one more on her. _Fuck._

For a moment, she considers running back to New York.

She starts to double over in her seat, burying her face in her hands until her father's voice rings out from the living room-

“I hope you're done with your boyfriend because the pizza is here and the DVD is raring to go!”

Veronica sits up slowly, wiping at her eyes. She takes several breaths, composing herself. This all wasn't so bad, it was just a setback. Eventually, everything would fall into place. It had to. “Coming!”

* * * * * 

From: l.echolls@gmail.com  
To: vmars@gmail.com  
Subject: :)

_I can't wait to see you._

The email, sent two days before Logan returns, is a loaded, single sentence. Logan can say a lot in one sentence.  
  
He misses her. He's sick of the job after six and a half months. He can't wait to have some good food in her company. He wants to touch her. He wants to fuck her. He's ready to be home. He's missed every bit of her.

Yes, Logan Echolls can put a lot into one sentence and knowing him, knowing how he knew how well she knew him, he had planned for that sentence to hold genuine impatience and promises and intentions.

She knew him well and she knows exactly what he had intended in that sentence, which is why she finds her hand slipping between her thighs that night. She gives in to the memories of him, letting her body respond to the particularly intense and private thoughts. She works herself up the way she knew he would if he were there, flashing and rewinding to the hotter moments of their numerous encounters until she finally comes, biting on her bottom lip as her toes curl.

The next morning, she sends him a reply, equally short, knowing he'll get exactly what her message was.

From: vmars@gmail.com  
To: l.echolls@gmail.com  
Subject: RE: :)

_It's all I could think about last night, so ready._

* * * * *

She feels like such a girl.

Logan comes back tomorrow at noon, and she hates how anxious she is.

Three outfits sit on the bed, a fourth about to join them. She can't decide what to wear, what impression she wants to make. He had jokingly warned her about leaving the daisy dukes at home, and a quick internet search pulls up a lot of women in flowery, bright dresses and yeah, _that's_ not happening.

He had been visibly surprised, then endearingly pleased when she told him over their final Skype conversation that she wanted to go to the meet up. It had taken a week of no contact and careful thinking, but she was sure this was what she wanted to do. She had made it clear that she wasn't there to talk to anyone or because she couldn't wait but because he obviously needed a ride and of _course_ , he had assured her, he knew that was _totally_ the reason, he _totally_ got it. She can see him holding back but even through the computer screen, she can see the happiness in his eyes. It was infectious.

She goes for a black dress with black flats and decides to spice it up with a leather bracelet and red lipstick. Conservative and respectable enough not to offend anyone, but there was enough cleavage and the skirt was short and loose enough to get Logan's attention. She was going to have his attention.

“Are you going to a funeral?”

“ _Dad_!”

She finally settles on black jeans, boots, and a light blue tank top. She puts her leather jacket over it because she can't be _too_ conservative and Logan loves that jacket. She hides the outfit before her father could make a crack about it too.

* * * * *

Veronica steps forward abruptly when she sees him, her eyes never leaving him as children begin to run to their parents.

He's searching for her in the crowd, eyes scanning as he walks slowly. She sees him kind of grin as a little boy runs into his mother's arms before shaking the hand of another man in uniform.

_Oh, fuck it._

With a shake of her head, she takes off in a sprint for him, so fast her hair flies over her shoulders. She can feel the tears in her eyes when he smiles wide as he finally spots her and he immediately drops his bag, walking at a more hurried pace.

She almost stumbles to a stop just in front of Logan, nearly bumping into him. “Hey.”

He can't even keep the smile from his face. “Hey.”

They stare at each other for what feels like a lifetime until she finally reaches up, grasping the sides of his face in her hands and pulling him down to her.

They ignore the camera shutters near them and she knows there are professional photographers taking their pictures but she can't bring herself to care, not when he's finally back in her arms. She nearly melts into him as he wraps his arms around her waist and picks her up so they're eye to eye and she laughs, resting her forehead against his as he leaves quick kisses on the corners of her mouth.

“God, I missed you,” he whispers in her ear and the mere gesture sends a shiver down her spine.

She doesn't respond, doesn't have a quip or a joke, all she can do is smile and enjoy the feeling of his body against hers. Her hand runs over the top of his hair, enjoying the feel of him _there_ , right there. 

Logan finally releases her, leaving a kiss on her forehead before turning to pick up his bag. She stands alone, watching families reunite and listening to the jovial music play and she allows, for a brief moment, the mood to infect her. As hard as the last six months- hell, the last twelve years- have been, it was all coming together. Everything was working out. 

Veronica entwines Logan's fingers with hers as they walk, holding on to his hand with both of hers. “So, I got us a hotel room in San Diego, there's room service so there will be food and champagne waiting for us when we get there, and dad's expecting us for brunch tomorrow afternoon at some fancy schmancy restaurant.”

“Your dad's really okay with us spending twenty-four hours locked in a hotel room?”

“Absolutely not so we just didn't go into details,” she grins as Logan laughs, leaving a kiss on the back of her hand. “I have a spare set of clothes for us in the car, bought some toiletries and more importantly, condoms-”

“How is my baby?”

“I'm smiling, aren't I?”

“Not you, my car.”

* * * * *

The room door isn't even completely closed before Logan is spinning them into the wall, undoing her jeans as she unbuttons and tugs off his shirt. His eye contact is aggressive and she's nearly trembling in anticipation.

She's removing her jacket while Logan yanks her pants and underwear down and she stifles a gasp as his mouth trails over her thighs as he unzips her shoes, tossing them to the side before removing her pants completely. He's kissing up her body and she's trying to pull him up, nearly groaning in frustration when he kisses over her clothed stomach and breasts before facing her.

They both seem unable to speak as she undoes his pants, pushing them down as he kisses and sucks on her neck. Before she knows it, he's picking her up and pinning her against the wall and she's crying out as he thrusts into her deep. They wait a moment, letting the intense sensation ebb, staring at each other, never breaking that contact. Her fingertips trail briefly over his cheek before he's moving, hard and rough and she's meeting every jerk of his hips. Her fingers curl into the back of his neck, his mouth opening against hers as they move together.

It wasn't going to last long, this was six months of want. She didn't care, they had the whole day and night, she just wanted him as he was now. She needed her fix.

This was the best homecoming for them both. Together, all alone, and without all of that outside noise. Just them.

Her legs spread as the pleasure intensifies, his hand slipping between their bodies and adding more pressure and she's moaning now, her arm winding and her fingers gripping at his hair. “Don't stop, don't stop.”

“Yes, ma'am. So bossy,” he grunts, stifling a groan.

She smiles, gasping when he starts thrusting faster. Her hips rock against his and she inhales deeply. “Follow orders, lieutenant.”

Veronica's hand clutches over her head at the wall as he thrusts harder, faster, his teeth baring against her neck. Her legs lock tight around his hips, his grip on her thighs tight. He groans loudly as he comes, his fingers digging into her skin. She swallows hard as he keeps moving, her hand falling hard on his back, her nails scratching into his skin. A hoarse moan escapes her when she comes, her head falling back and hitting the wall.

When she's caught her breath, she lifts her head, her smiling mouth brushing over his. “Like you never left,” she says breathlessly, leaning into his kiss.

* * * * *

“Good news is,” Logan announces loudly, moving his feet as Veronica walks on the mattress, juggling a bottle of champagne and a plate of french fries. She drops beside him, handing over the bottle. “I'm done for a year. I can rent a place, we can hang-”

“I thought you were done for good,” Veronica says, holding out a fry. She can feel the slow, horrible churning of her stomach, the alarm of something going wrong. “You said you were done.”

“I said maybe,” he replies before taking a bite of the fry from her fingers. “I want to be,” he sighs at the faint pursing of her lips, leaning over and kissing her bare shoulder. “I am hoping I'm done. Okay?”

She nods, moving her head as he opens the bottle. “I hope you're done too.”

He takes a long drink of champagne, leaning back against the headboard. “You'll come by if I get a place, right?” A smile plays on his lips. “It's going to get lonely, me all by myself, no one to keep me company...”

“Maybe,” she bites back a smile when he chuckles, shoving a couple of french fries in her mouth. “We'll see.”

“Ouch. You're not planning to stay living with your dad, are you?”

The sudden silence between them is tense and awkward. She turns her head, chewing slowly on her food. “What's wrong with me living with my dad?”

He sits up, perhaps sensing the beginnings of a fight and eying her warily. “Nothing...but we're adults. It's going to get weird.”

She gives him a look, her eyes narrowing. “Why should I get my own place when you'll be gone in a year? I'm going to have to push my budget so things don't _get weird_?”

Logan's lips press together as he gives her his own look of irritation. “Okay. You _knew_ -”

Veronica sets aside the plate, turning and straddling Logan's hips. Time to stop the fight before it starts. She smirks as he inhales slowly, taking the bottle from his hands. She takes a long sip before setting the bottle down on the nightstand. “Okay. Time out,” she leans forward, kissing him softly and she is relieved when he kisses her back. “Let's start over.”

She decides to take this talk in a casual route, to give Logan a chance to better explain himself. Give them _both_ a chance at correction. She doesn't want to go down the same road of being told one thing and him doing another or the two of them hiding their grievances until they explode. She's just not willing to do that part of their relationship over again.

“I don't think,” she begins carefully. “We should start off your return with omitting of truths.”

He looks up at her, rubbing her hips tenderly. “What do you mean?”

“You said you would be done in a year-”

Logan sighs as he sits up, resting his hands on her hips. “Babe, I said a year and a half. Two years tops. And then I'm officially done. I have to fulfill my commitment. But once that's done, I'm done. That I promise you. We just have to cowboy up on this one.”

She nods, wrapping her arms around his shoulders when he starts kissing her neck. “I just want us to be clear.”

“You have me for one whole year. A year. After that, we'll see what they have for me, and after that...I'm all yours for good,” he lifts his head, kissing her cheek softly. “If you'll have me.”

And that's that. The fight is over. They actually talked through something, with no bloodshed or tears. Holy shit, maybe they were adults. Maybe they were really ready for this now.

Veronica smiles, running her hands over Logan's shoulders. “I'll always want you.”

* * * * *

Veronica plops down next to Logan as he finishes tying his shoe, leaving a light kiss on his shoulder. “I almost forgot to tell you,” she says, near-breathless with a rare excitement. “The new dean of Hearst is a major asshole. I did a case for him and he refused to pay up so it's go time.”

Logan shakes his head before gazing at Veronica, a look of pure adoration in his eyes. “That's my girl.”

She leans in, letting her lips brush over his. “Wanna help smoke him out? Mac's already offered her services. Wallace can't because of some silly conflict of interest so-”

He interrupts her with a kiss, climbing to his feet and pulling her up. “Always work with you.”

“ _Work_? I'm going to _enjoy_ this, buddy! Get on my level.”

“I'm on, I'm totally on,” he chuckles, grabbing their bag and letting her lead him to the door.

She glances over her shoulder at him. “Weevil's also going to be around the office a lot so you need to be nice.”

Logan's smile fades abruptly. “Wait- what?”

* * * * *

Logan takes back his car after their twenty-four hours of bliss, claiming he had to make sure Veronica took proper care of it. She lets him have the moment of male bravado, knowing full well she'll be coaxing the car from him eventually during his time home. However, now it was back to reality, back to brunch with her father, back to work, and back to their normal. At least this time, Logan was going to be there at her side.

They drive back to Neptune, Logan at the wheel and holding Veronica's hand. When they would reach a red light, one would lean over for a kiss or they would just smile at each other. Ah, the honeymoon period, absence did make the heart grow fonder, all of that cliché crap. It was nice.

She had things to do. Bad guys to take down. People to help. Her father was starting to bend at letting her fully help with the corruption problem within the police department. Her business cards just came in. She had to figure out how to pay off her loans. How to deal with suddenly having Logan around all the time. Everything had changed. It was going to be hard. 

Logan groans, pressing on his horn. “This _fuck_ keeps cutting me off-”

“Why don't you just drive over him since you're riding his ass so hard?”

“ _Cute_.”

Veronica knew what they had was never going to be officially normal. Her job wouldn't allow that, and that wasn't how they were built. They would always be difficult, complicated. They would always fight and make up and she was pretty sure she liked it that way. 

She smirks as Logan huffs next to her, rubbing his arm gently. He seems to relax slightly, leaning back in his seat.

They were in a great place now, but she didn't know what the future would hold. How they would handle each other after years apart and lives ruined. She was willing to find out, though. She wasn't afraid anymore, she wasn't going to run. 

All roads would lead back to each other.

Veronica shifts in her seat, squeezing Logan's hand. “Hey,” she smiles slightly as he glances at her. “Let's take the long way home.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic of] The Long Way Home](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3180170) by [silvergrrrl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silvergrrrl/pseuds/silvergrrrl)




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